Mothers’ Freedom…

It is good that I cannot remember the day of

my birth, although since I have questioned why

I am on this earth; my mother did not want me

she wanted to be free.  I understand the poverty

in which I arrived, I did not understand years later

when she told me she would have been happy if

I had died.

 

She told of not having even an aspirin for the pain,

and that she feared the future and afraid her life

would never be the same.  Mother spoke of the old

iron bed with cornhusk mattress that stood on a

bare wooden floor.  Of how they kept out the cold

with raw cotton from the nearby field stuffed into

the cracks of a homemade door.

 

Delivered by a neighboring mid-wife, weighing only

two pounds my mother told her to take me away saying, I

hope that she will be gone by the end of the day.  I

have heard, that my father took me into his well-worn

hands, whispered to me, “Live, I know that you can”.

He placed me in a shoebox put me on the front seat

of his old pickup truck and carried me away.  He would

not see me until my birthday, exactly two-years from

that day.

 

Left with a woman, that I until this day I think of her as

mother: I knew no other.  She packed my clothes in a

clean cloth sack, she cried, but knew when I started

walking that my father would want me back.  He looked

at my birth mother saying that I would never again go

away, she responded without feeling saying, it would

be him that took care of me if I stayed.

 

The years, they quickly flew by and she was never at

home, then the day came that she was finally gone.

When my father died, I recognized her but did not see

her cry.  Me, I soon had children of my own and knew

what kind of mother I wanted to be, and unlike my own

mother, I always felt free.

 

I had not seen her for many years when I heard that she

had died, too late to feel a mothers touch, too late to

hear her say, “I love you so much.”  I cried, but not for me,

I cried because at last my mother was set free.

 

Finally mother’s love…

 

In the stillness of the midnight hour veiled in angelic

glory my mother stood next to me.  She touched my

face where there are always tears.  She placed her arms

around me to take away my fears.

 

What are these thoughts you have my child, she said to

me with a mothers’ smile.  Embrace my love let it take

away, your sorrows we are here for only a short while.

Be joyous of each tomorrow.  Forgive me, seek life not

death; things are never as bad as they seem, cherish

your life…follow your dreams.

 

 

 

©2013.annjohnsonmurphree

 

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http://www.amazon.com/Ann-Johnson-Murphree/e/B00CGBLQZO/ref=sr_ntt_srch_lnk_2?qid=1375763518&sr=8-2

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5 thoughts on “Mothers’ Freedom…

  1. Wow! My grandmother put all 4 of her girls up for adoption then took them back one by one–from her favorite to her least favorite. My mother refused to let this stop her from being a fantastic mother–she was! It’s so interesting how differently people handle parental rejection.

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